Fingers to See
by rubie
Summary: Folken's thoughts as he contemplates his wish. no time frame, could generally apply to anytime during the Escaflowne arc, *repost 11.15.01*


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Maybe the title's too suggestive, but what the hell, I like it ^_^ muhahaha!   
  
Standard Disclaimers apply.]   
  
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**Fingers to See**  
by rubie   
  
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The end of the world isn't black.   
  
It is blue.   
  
Like the sea.   
  
Beating against those water worn cliffs.   
  
Like a heart beat.   
  
Steady.   
  
Rhythmic.   
  
Alive.   
  
And the sea spans out beneath me like the rippling heavens, hugging his brother with a passion so strong that I could discern the sky from the sea. The waves beat against the rocks with each breath I take, sending a white spray that fuses with its twin. Silver birds soar the skies and the sea screams with life.   
  
It is then when I'm truly alive.   
  
The wind trace the contours of my face and twists itself around my body. It seeps through my cloak and flows past my sides. It strokes the gilded metal of my arm although I cannot feel it. It sees me as _me_. It sees me as who I really am. It sees but does not judge. That is why I could stand here and hug the winds forever.   
  
The world around my pulses like a single heart, beating its soothing rythm in unison with my own. And together, they sing an intricate song without lyrics or resonance. Just thoughts. Wishes. Desires.   
  
Life.   
  
And the waves crash against the cliffs once again. Its little waves, with their soft white hands, graze my face and melt at its touch. And I let it run down like tears. They seemed to be weeping with me, for me, for an emotion that I could not express.   
  
For that pain that I can not agonize. For that frustration I can barely suppress. For that fear only I can understand.   
  
Defeat.   
  
Failure.   
  
Loss.   
  
Yes.. the water is bitter and salty. Even the sea is crying.   
  
With my left hand, I catch the droplets as they fall. They mold into my hand and run across the pallid skin in streams. Yes, the water reflects me. The sea reflects me. The sea is a mirror that would reflect anything I wanted to see.   
  
And I want to see me... screaming.   
  
I want to scream to the sky that was its kin. I want to scream to the sea, to the wind, to the sun, to the birds.   
  
And I have been screaming. Everyday. Everyday, I scream to those around me. I scream to my enemies. I scream to those who call themselves friends. I scream to my brother. I scream to myself. I am raging inside. But somehow, my face refuses to betray me. For that, I am eternally grateful.   
  
I want to release this anger within me, but I don't dare. To scream will be a sign of weakness, and I can not live in this world of predators. I can not be prey.   
  
But I've lost already. What do I still want to win?   
  
I could just stand here for hours comtemplating that seemingly simple question. But I really don't know. There are so many things I want. Too many things to win.   
  
I want to win a new world. I want to be apart of a world that sees but does not judge. I want to be among people who sees only the present and not the past. I want to be _me_. I want to be free.   
  
I want to stand here, with my brother, and listen to the sea's eternal song. I want to release my wings and fly over the eastern cliffs, without branding myself as a curse. I want to ride through the impossibly green Fanelian forests, and watch the vines dance. I want to become the wind, seeing with my fingers, but not judging with my eyes. I want to be _me_.   
  
I don't want to be in a world where people's prying eyes observe your clothes, judge your wealth, and shield away from you when you are different. I am different. I will always different. I will not take on the facade. I will become that mask of pretense. I will not yield to that mask of lies.   
  
I will not be like those sea worth cliffs, whose jagged edges had been worn smooth of differences. I will not erode like those around me, so desperate to become like each other that they've lost all that define themselves. I will be _me_. I will be free.   
  
And the mist of tears stream down my face again with its stolen caress. I could feel myself beginning to smile. Yes, the sea sees _me_. The sea becomes me. It reflects my image; the image that I want others to see. I want to be a blur of shapes, so indefinite that you cannot judge. But you can only feel, only hear, only reach with your fingers to see.   
  
Yes, the sea is beautiful.   
  
The sky is beautiful.   
  
The wind is beautiful.   
  
But people.... people are ugly.   
  
Because they see with their eyes.   
  
  
End   
  
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As always, reviews are great! Flames are fine too, I don't mind! But if its about how idiotic I looked while trying to walk during the presentation about the 1920's flapper with 4 inch heels.... then you are going to DIEEEEEEEE!! I mean.... go far away and never come back..... ^_^;;   
  
| antidote | 


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